


Because I Said So

by shannedo



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Netherlands National Football Team - Freeform, robin-centric, team dad!robin, team fic, yeh kinda crack-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Robin van Persie landed himself with a team of overgrown children who all call him Papa, he'll never know.</p><p>Or five times Robin is exasperated by his team calling him "papa" and one time he doesn't really mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Said So

**breaking up petty fights**

In a team of men Robin van Persie often called more childish than their own children, disagreements were a daily occurrence. Disagreements, competition, bets, forfeits, dares; a training session wasn’t complete without something disgusting happening. Granted, the most serious disagreement that had ever happened was when Wesley and Arjen couldn't decide which superhero they were most like but sometimes, it was exhausting.

Today, Wesley Sneijder, Daley Blind and Robin stood at the edge of the penalty box, taking a break after some drills.

“Bet I could score from here,” Daley said, dribbling a few metres back.

Robin repressed a groan as Wesley rolled his eyes and joined Daley. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Pass here and I’ll put you to shame.”

Daley snorted. “You’re just worried the green bean will show you up!”

“As if,” Wesley looked to the goals, where Jasper Cillessen sat propped against the posts, guzzling down water. “Five times as many apps as you, kiddo. Five.”

They started arguing about who could score from where and how far, how Wesley was getting old and how Daley was as green as grass. Neither man noticed Robin stealing the ball and taking it all the way back to the centre line. He knew it would take a stroke of luck to score from this range but hell, he felt lucky today.

He stood back then took three long strides and booted the ball with all his might. The sound alone was enough to make Daley and Wesley freeze, watching as the ball soared high through the air.

For a second, Robin thought he’d missed but the ball clashed into the back of the net, causing Jasper to choke and splutter. Georginio ran over to help him as Robin jogged back to a wide eyed Wesley and Daley. “Did that settle it, children?” Robin asked with a triumphant grin.

Daley gave him a look of mock remorse. “Sorry, papa,” he said. Wesley snorted.

Rolling his eyes, Robin went to check that Jasper was alright. Little did he know, Daley had just started a trend.

**having his food stolen**

As Captain of the team, Robin had to be the first to turn up for training. However, getting up extra early in the morning was no one's favourite activity, so he only woke up early enough to roll out of bed, pull on some clothes, grab his bag and drive to the training grounds, meaning he had to pick up breakfast on the way.

This morning, breakfast was a fruit salad and a steaming latte that he was in desperate need of.

By the time he was into his training gear, his teammates had begun appearing. Daley Blind was the first and upon spotting Robin's coffee, he helped himself to a drink. Robin was too late to stop him but laughed when he scalded his tongue. Served him right.

He was sitting on the bench in the changing rooms, enjoying his fruit salad when Jordy Clasie appeared and stole a grape. The kid was practically his little brother, so Robin let it slide, glaring at him and earning a dopey grin in return.

Klaas Jan Huntelaar was next to turn up and helped himself to a strawberry, Robin's favourite. "Do any of you feed yourself?" he spluttered, "I'm not fucking Mama Bird!"

"Yeah, but you are team papa," Klaas pointed out with a waggle of his eyebrows. Daley laughed.

Robin rolled his eyes. "I'm six days older than you."

"Still older, papa," Arjen Robben had arrived and gave Robin a wide grin as he stole the coffee cup.

It was too early to argue. It was certainly too early to chase Robben around the changing room and potentially end up with scalding hot coffee down his front as someone else stole the rest of his fruit. So Robin sighed, defeated and said "Fine, if you guys want a grumpy, caffeine-deprived dick for a captain today, on your heads be it."

Jasper was the next to stray too close to Robin's breakfast. He got a sharp "Don't you fucking dare, kid," for his efforts. The look on Jasper's face nearly made Robin feel guilty. Nearly.

**discipline**

It was a rare occurrence and a novelty when a teammate turned up to practice with what they'd been doing last night written all over them. Mostly because the merciless teasing means you only ever do it once. Every young team member took their turn showing up a half hour late with a raging hangover and subjecting themselves to a month of relentless mockery. They'd all done it.

Robin remembered the first time he'd been called up to play for his country in 2006. One morning, he'd turned up to a training session with his head pounding and his stomach churning every time he smelled the stench of beer that clung to him. He'd had to stop halfway through the warm up to vomit in a bucket as Arjen, who was in equally bad shape, roughly patted his back. Good old Edwin van der Sar, their captain, had them down a litre of water each and jog the perimeter of the pitch as everyone else practiced, sweating out the alcohol. Wesley barely stopped laughing long enough to go through the drills.

Now, he stood in Edwin's shoes and as often as he worried about how well he filled them, he would bet this was how the old legend had felt all those years ago. The rest of the team were busy warming up on the pitch behind him as the latecomers, Stefan de Vrij and Memphis Depay looked sheepish. Both very young, both extremely talented, both barely coherent. Memphis didn't look like he knew what day it was. Stefan was concentrating all his energy on not throwing up all over Robin's new boots.

"Late night?"

Memphis gave him a kicked puppy look and Stefan's eyes glazed over as he thought about it. His stomach gave a kick like he might actually throw up and Robin shuffled back, to be on the safe side. "Alright. If you're going to throw up, do it now and do it in a bucket. Drink a full bottle of water each and then start doing laps. Take it easy."

"Thank you, Robin-" Memphis mumbled.

"Don't thank me, you haven't started running yet," Robin told him, biting back a smirk. "Two laps and you'll never want to touch drink again."

They nodded and muttered their thanks regardless, heading off to grab their bottles. Robin turned back to the team to see Arjen grinning at him. "Those were the days," he said in a reminiscent tone.

Memories of jägerbombs and spirits strong enough to knock out a horse came to Robin and his stomach rolled. "Oh god, don't remind me," he groaned.

Arjen laughed and clapped him on the back. "They'll never do it again, that's for sure."

He nodded. "Next time, you're disciplining the unruly teenagers."

"Aw, Robin, I'm honoured! I'm officially Team Mama, then?"

Robin made a sound of disgust and gave his old friend a shove. "Only if you never call me Team Papa again."

**patching up**

Injury wasn't exactly foreign to a footballer. With the challenges, footwork and break neck speeds, it was just another part of the game. So it was typical that Robin knew how to treat a staved finger or a sprained ankle, considering he'd been dealing with them for most of his life. It really didn't warrant the usual Team Papa comments.

Nonetheless, his team took every opportunity he presented them with.

It was a simple enough exercise and good to get them going in the morning. He would charge at the goal and Daryl Janmaat would try to stop him. Except it was so early that the grass was still slippery with dew. Robin faked left and swerved right, causing Daryl to turn so sharply he slipped and went over his ankle. He let out a yelp and fell to the ground, prompting Robin to let the ball roll away and drop to his knees beside him.

"Crap, Daryl, are you alright?" he gulped.

The defender whimpered in pain. "Yeah, yeah," he bit out. "Just a sprain, don't worry."

Robin made a noise and sat down on the damp grass, cross legged. He lifted Daryl's foot into his lap and started barking commands to the teammates that stood around them with worried looks on their face. "Klaas, there's a tubular bandage in my bag, go grab it. Jordy, wrap up some ice from the cooler with a towel. Bruno, phone Yoshi." Daryl made a sound of protest. "No, Daryl, if you just take today off, you'll be back and better in two days at the most, okay?"

After he'd made sure both Daryl and his girlfriend knew how to take care of a sprain, Robin returned to his team. They all stood around, casting him near identical grins and he felt dread pooling in his chest.

"That was so cute-" Klaas began.

"If anyone even breathes the words 'team papa' I will kick them so hard they'll be shitting out boots faster than Adidas," Robin cut across him, glaring at his team. "Clear?"

They all confirmed that they understood and Robin sauntered off to collect the ball he'd discarded. Arjen didn't even wait until he was out of earshot to burst out laughing. Robin allowed himself a small grin.

**absolutely not showing favouritism**

Back in the changing rooms, Robin slumped down next to his bag after a long and hard training session. He perked up when he remembered the chocolate bar he'd snuck out of Dina's Halloween hoard and thrown into his bag that morning. Peeling back the wrapper, Robin looked up to see Klaas staring at the snack from across the room, near drooling down his front. Robin was seriously beginning to question the grown man's ability to feed himself.

He sighed dramatically and broke off a square, throwing it to Klaas who caught it neatly in his mouth. Of course, it didn't go unnoticed. "Hey!" Wesley whined, making grabby hands at the chocolate.

Robin shook his head and took a bite. Daley looked at him pitifully. "That's just favouritism."

The captain rolled his eyes. "My favourites are the ones who don't miss the big white things called goals," he retorted, completely exasperated with his team this week.

"It's not my fault that Jasper is really good at his job!" Daley reasoned. The goalie smiled.

Yes, Jasper was very good at his job but god, that was so not the point. Robin refrained from saying anything else, too exhausted to get into an argument.

"What kind of papa shows favouritism anyway?" Arjen asked, casting his friend a wicked grin.

"The kind who has to put up with you lot!"

**the one time he didn't mind**

They'd done it. They had officially qualified for UEFA Euro 16 and it was honestly such an amazing feeling. All that hard work and long training sessions had paid off. Yes, there was a long road ahead that could possibly include them coming face to face with the German national team but for now, they would celebrate.

In one corner of the changing rooms, Wesley seemed to be in the middle of composing a song about Jasper and his magical hands. Jasper was bright red in the face but that was probably Daley's fault, who had climbed onto the goalie's back and refused to let go.

Arjen had loudly proclaimed that he'd be buying the first round of drinks, so some of the boys were busy plotting the most expensive round possible and others were trying to figure out how they'd open a tab on his credit card. As for Robin, he stood in the doorway, watching his team with a wild grin.

They'd celebrated amazing highs and suffered through horrific lows. The last time they'd played in this tournament, they'd gone home embarrassed and frustrated. Not to mention the title of the greatest team to never win a World Cup still darkened their doorstep.

Despite all that, Robin couldn't help but feel immensely proud of them all. He knew that when the day came for Arjen, Wesley, Klaas and him to play for their homeland for the final time, this bunch of truly remarkable - if oftentimes insufferable - boys would be fine.

He had no idea who'd take up the title of Captain and the more affectionate title of Team Papa when he retired but he hoped it was someone who appreciated the love and support such an amazing team would give them. As Robin did.

So yeah, shoot him, he kind of liked the whole Team Papa thing. But if Arjen ever found that out, there would be hell to pay.

**Author's Note:**

> It's late, so please forgive any spelling mistakes! I'll go over it again in the morning. Also, any technical mistakes to do with the game. Sorry if I messed something up :/ Unbeta-d, all mistakes are my own.  
> For [Carol](http://www.saveyourhearttonight.tumblr.com) because she's right, there isn't nearly enough RVP fic out there ;) A massive thank you to [ind1e](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1e/) who got me thinking about team dad!Robin aha  
> Kudos & reviews are much appreciated! I hope you enjoyed <3


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